


Edges of Mortality

by prayforpiett



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Original Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Angst, Dark Leia Organa, Dark Luke Skywalker, Han is not having a good time, Horror, M/M, Magic, Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-10
Updated: 2021-01-10
Packaged: 2021-03-14 17:27:24
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,797
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28674453
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/prayforpiett/pseuds/prayforpiett
Summary: On a boring summer afternoon, a strange young man wanders into Han's magic shop. What kind of trouble will he bring to the small, quiet town of Anchorhead?
Relationships: Anakin Skywalker | Darth Vader & Luke Skywalker, Leia Organa & Han Solo, Leia Organa & Luke Skywalker, Luke Skywalker/Han Solo
Comments: 6
Kudos: 27





	Edges of Mortality

**Author's Note:**

  * For [zoryany](https://archiveofourown.org/users/zoryany/gifts).



> Happy birthday, Starry! I hope you'll enjoy your gift. <3

Han Solo, owner of the Millennium Magical Curiosities opened his eyes, blinking furiously against the light of the setting sun that shone through the shop window. 

He couldn't remember what he dreamed about but if the cold sweat dripping from his forehead was any indication, it had not been pleasant. 

He wiped his brow and sighed. He was never much for dreams but usually, they were just normal crap about him forgetting to wear pants to work or having to sing opera before a bunch of people. These dreams of late, they were different. Once, he would have thought that it was just his mind playing with him but after getting chased by vampires through Corellia and teaming up with a werewolf to open an occult shop, he, unfortunately, knew better. It was hard to not believe when the supernatural knocked you out and tried to suck out your blood. 

Of course, that doesn't mean Han didn't try his damned hardest not to believe. But unfortunately, denial had its limits even when it came to him.

Still, usually, it wasn't that bad. On some days, he even had fun conning wannabe mages by selling them fake plastic crystal balls for twice the price of the real thing or playing cards with naive spirits who were only recently summoned into the mortal world and didn't even recognize the slightest cheating. And of course, he wouldn't have traded Chewie's company for anything. If someone told him two years ago that he was going to be friends with a living furball, who kept tearing up his best shoes every full moon, he would have thought that they were high off their asses. And if that someone also told him that the furball was a surprisingly decent cook and liked cheesy jazz music then he would have suggested seeing a psychiatrist. Because there are things, that even the best, most high-quality spice can't make a sane person imagine. At least he thought so.

Now, he ran the only occult shop in the small town of Anchorhead, spent his evenings in the company of ghouls and tried not to think about the debt he owed to Jabba. The sloth demon had the whole local supernatural business in his hands and no one could trade here without giving him a certain per cent of the profit. Which usually wouldn't have been a problem, but it was August. 

Summer wasn't really occult season, nobody wanted to practice the dark arts when the sun went down late and rose early. Life slowed down, as the heat settled in and Han's profit started getting scarce. He still had the usual clientele but he could no longer pay Jabba and the lackeys of the demon started paying him more visits than he would have liked. Of course, he could always run, if it came to that. He was good at slipping away from uncomfortable situations but didn't particularly fancy getting chased through the continent. Again.

And now, there were the dreams too. They weren't prophetic, Han wasn't a sorcerer but anyone who meddled with the supernatural was bound to get glimpses into the future. Even if he would have rather stuck to the present, thank you very much. 

It wasn't exactly his favourite activity to wake up in cold sweat every morning with his heart pounding in his ears. He only ever remembered gentle, feather-soft shadows caressing his skin and slowly tightening around his throat until something more was choked out of him than the air in his lungs. He usually felt empty after waking up, as if there was nothing inside his skin and it was only a matter of time before he shrunk like an old luft balloon.

He wasn't the kind of man to greet Death with a kiss, even though he rather liked flirting with him on occasion so he tried to find the cause of the dreams, prepare for what was to come but it was hard to get a grip on his vague memories of terror. Over time his information sources dried out and his contacts started disappearing. He was greeted by shut doors, empty flats and letters informing him about sudden migrations to Theed or Aldera. The promise of something big was hanging in the air.

He shook his head, trying to get rid of the gloomy thoughts. They currently weren't much use to him and he didn't like mulling over something that he couldn't change. He had to play with the cards that were dealt to him, no matter how much he wanted a different deck. He grinned, rather satisfied with his rather clever analogy and put his legs up on the counter. Chewie would arrive to take the night shift soon and he could go home to drink the last remains of the expensive whiskey he won a fortnight ago at a particularly tense sabacc game.

Suddenly, the shop bell rang signalling the arrival of a customer. He was a rather short, blonde man with a charming, boyish smile and strikingly blue eyes that examined the store and Han himself, with bright curiosity.

"You've got quite a shop here."

"It's the best place in town if you got a taste for the dark arts."

Technically, it wasn't a lie. The Millennium Magical Curiosities was the only occult shop in town.

"I don't doubt that,” he said, eyeing briefly with a shrunken head of dubious origins hanging on the wall.

"So whatcha looking for, kid? Let me guess. A love potion? Everyone seems to want one nowadays."

They had a rather convincing batch of fake love potions and he wanted to dump them on some poor, unsuspecting idiot before someone who actually knew their shit came around and started questioning Han about them.

"Nothing so scandalous, I'm afraid."

"Then maybe the Tome of the Five Elements? We have the new edition. It's great for beginner spells."

The man's smile brightened as if he found something particularly amusing about Han's words.

"I actually came here for an orb of Mephistopheles."

Han eyed him with sudden wariness and suspicion. An orb of Mephistopheles was used as a focal point for higher-level magic. They only carried them for the occasional members of the Higher Magic Society, who rarely visited but always made a big scene if the shop didn't have what they were looking for. They were the only officially recognized mages in the continent, thanks to Palpatine who took over and dissolved the Council of Sorcerers a few decades ago. Of course, people still practised magic outside of the Society too but the only option for actual education was joining them. All that the others could hope for was a few cheap magic tricks to impress the uninitiated. Han was too young to remember the purges when they eradicated all orders and covens who refused to bow before them but he saw the graves and the dead eyes of the mourning families. People don't forget easily.

"You know I gotta see your credentials for that. I can only hand out that stuff to the members of the Society."

There were certain restrictions imposed on high-level magic items and although Han was happy to con amateurs, he didn't want to anger Palpatine's little elite bunch. He valued his life more than that.

"I think I have something better than credentials."

The man fished out a small leather pouch from his pocket and poured an array of colourful coins of various shapes and sizes from it onto the countertop. Han's eyes widened and instantly grabbed one. He examined closely, sniffed it and even bit into it but could find no indication of forgery. These were actual wishing coins. They were like Djinns, but only granted small wishes and didn't possess the unfortunate tendency to twist one's words. They were no more than the toys of a trickster, yet they sold for a handsome price. He could pay his debt to Jabba twice from the amount of money he'd get from selling all this.

"I hope that's enough." 

He wanted to say that it's more than enough but something stopped him. Even if he discounted the dangers of angering the Society. He would be handing an orb of Mephistopheles to a complete amateur, who had no idea what they were doing. He looked at the mysterious stranger again, trying to determine his age. He couldn't have been much older than twenty, he was probably still at university. Dabbling with such dangerous magic... It could get him killed easily.

"Look, I'm usually all about privacy and anonymity because I don't want to stick my nose into whatever the hell my customers are doing but I have to ask. What are you planning on doing with this?"

The man's sunshine smile wavered for a moment, but it was back in full force before Han could have been sure that it even happened.

"Oh, just a séance with some of my friends." He shrugged nonchalantly.

Great, so it seemed like Han was stuck with the biggest and richest idiot who ever stepped into his shop. A séance, using an orb of Mephistopheles as a focal point? Now, that was outright suicidal.

"You are going to get yourself killed."

The smile was gone, and there was a closed-off, determined look on the man's face.

"I know what I'm doing."

"No, you most definitely don't,” he retorted heatedly.

"If you aren't willing to sell it to me, then I have other contacts that I can visit. But why do you care anyway?"

"Even I have a conscience, kid."

"I didn't take you for the heroic type."

From any other person, it would have sounded mocking but there was a genuine surprise and curiosity in the way he said that. Han sighed and took another wishing coin into his hands, watching as the colours shifted in the light. It wasn't his job to keep idiots from killing themselves, even if they were unusually handsome. And he really needed the money to pay off his debt. He didn't like the idea of being fed to whatever little pets Jabba liked to keep, according to the rumours. He didn't know why he protested so much.

"Look, if you want it that much then you can have it. I'm not gonna play the knight on the white horse or whatever any longer. You've made it clear that you have a death wish and I'm not going to stop you from getting it."

The blonde's sunny smile was back and his eyes gleamed golden in the light of the setting sun.

"Thanks, really. I needed this."

"Sure thing,” he mumbled as he started putting away the money, into a small cardboard box that he kept inside the counter.

"You know, you could come to the séance tonight."

"What?"

"It's going to be a small gathering. Nothing special, really. But I bake excellent brownies so if nothing else, they are a great reason to come."

Han stared at him incredulously. He just made it clear what was his opinion about suicidal séance parties and now the kid is inviting him? With brownies?

"You don't have to give a definite answer but here is the address if you decide to come." He took out a crumpled piece of paper from his pocket and handed it to Han.

"We're gonna start at midnight. You know, it's easier to do this kind of stuff in the witching hour. We would love to have you. Seriously."

He was out of the door before Han could even open his mouth. He stared after him for a long time, before he unfolded the paper left in his hands. It was a small card, with sharp black letters that read:

"Luke Skywalker  
Anchorhead, Indigo street 2."

No phone number, no email address. Han furrowed his brow, as he crumpled the card and stuffed it deep into his pocket. He'd rather stick his head into a vampire's mouth than go to that party. Whoever the hell Luke Skywalker was, he hoped that they'd never see each other again. For both of their sakes. He was already planning on paying Jabba and then getting out of here as soon as he possibly could. He had no desire to find out whether the Society would actually come for him.

....

"And you sold it to him?" Chewie yelled at him.

Han winced but still, tried to sound nonchalant, still fiddling with a coin between his fingers.

"We need the money, you know what would happen if Jabba decided that our time is up. We got lucky the last time we were on the run, but could we get away again? I'd rather take my chances with the Society. They are probably so high up in their own asses, that they wouldn't realise that I sold it to the kid, even if he raised the dead or some shit."

"At least did he seem like he knew what he is doing?"

No. Not at all, he thought but didn't say it out loud. He swallowed guiltily. 

"Listen. I just want us to be safe."

"But are you willing to get someone innocent killed for that?"

"If he is buying high-level magic items without credentials, then he is most definitely not innocent,” he protested weakly.

"So you are willing to rely on the judgement of people who killed thousands of others because they didn't agree with them when it's convenient for you?"

He stood up, grabbed his bag and pushing Chewie aside he marched to the door but stopped before he opened it.

"I'm not responsible for every idiot who decides to ruin their own life,” he said quietly.

"No, not for every idiot. Only for this one."

Chewie's glare seemed to burn holes into his back as he stormed out of the shop. He didn't care. He was going to go home and finally get some rest. Luke Skywalker, with his bright eyes and sunshine smile, could go to hell for all he cared.

...

Han cursed the werewolf, as he marched through the streets trying to find Luke's house. If that big furry oaf could have just left him alone, then he would be at home right now probably watching some shitty soap opera in his warm bed and not trying to stop people from committing suicide via stupidity. He zipped up his jacket, as he kept grumbling about the werewolf and his apparent hero complex. Of course, he had to choose the coldest night of the summer for this idiocy. It wouldn't even be him otherwise.

It really was cold. There was nothing left from the suffocating heat of summer, the icy chill embraced the city like a mother would embrace their child. It seemed like the sudden change of temperature chased people back into the safety of their warm homes. Gone were the tourists and the reckless teenagers who usually stayed out late into the nightly domain of the supernatural, to drink on public property and listen to their obnoxious music. 

But not only the humans had disappeared, Han realised as he walked through the town. 

Gone were the vampires, flirting with drunk girls on the street corners, only to pull them into a bloody embrace. Gone were the demons clinging to the walls of the houses, sucking in the fears and nightmares of the inhabitants. No, only the rustling of the leaves and the buzz of the flickering street lamps broke the silence now. Even his own footsteps sounded muffled as if he was hearing them from a distance. The world seemed detached from him, almost as if he was an unwelcome guest in it. His breath was visible in the air, ghastly white against the dirty orange light of the street lamps. He curled his fingers around the flicker knife in his pocket.

Something was coming and he was not sure if Luke Skywalker would survive the night.

It didn't take long to find the place, even though it was in the nicer part of town which he rarely visited. It was a corner house, small and in need of restoration but it was well-maintained and didn't stick out too much from the myriad of other middle-class homes on the street. The curtains were drawn and only a small, flickering glow penetrated them.

He hesitated before he rang the doorbell as a sudden nervousness took over him. What would he even say? Still, he came this far. He pressed the bell firmly and heard it ring through the house, then slowly fade away into the silence. A woman opened the door, around the same age as Luke. They looked similar but there was something hard in her eyes that was missing from his.

"Han Solo?"

He didn't remember introducing himself to Luke but nodded anyway. It wasn't like his name wasn't plastered over every flyer that advertised his shop.

"That would be me."

She smiled but it didn't quite reach her eyes. 

"I'm Leia, Luke's twin sister. He really hoped that you would come."

"Well, here I am." He said with more self-assurance then he felt at the moment.

Leia's smile widened and he didn't know that made him feel so nervous. 

"Come on in, he is upstairs."

He followed her into the house, his limbs numb from the cold as he walked. It was dark inside, even darker than it was in the light of the street lamps. Only the occasional candle aided him in not falling on his face until his eyes got used to it. It was a nice house with antique wooden furniture and similarly old tapestries. The twins had barely left their mark on the interior decor, only the occasional open book or forgotten sweater lying around indicated that anyone lived here. And of course, the music from upstairs. It was some psychedelic thing from the late seventies but it made him feel warm and drowsy, like a mug hot milk before bed.

The voices of the guests and the music grew louder as they got closer to the room upstairs, and when they entered Han was greeted by what was probably the strangest sight he had ever seen in his life, which was something of a miracle considering that he saw Chewie in a dog cone that one time. People scattered around the room were laughing and talking with paper cups in their hands. Some of them were moving to the rhythmic pounding of the music. The volume surprised him because he could have sworn that he heard nothing from it, when he was outside, that the streets were completely quiet. They must have one hell of a soundproofing...

There was a salt circle in the middle of the room, surrounded by candles of various sizes. They weren't lit up yet, which only added the excitement hanging in the air. It felt like the countdown before a new year and Han suddenly wondered about the date. 

He furrowed his brows, trying to remember. What season were they in? He remembered the cold, the icy chill that got under his skin like myriads of little needles and shivered. 

It must be winter, he thought as they cut through the crowd. 

He wasn't much for loud parties anymore, but he decided that he was glad that Luke dragged him here. Chewie should have come too, he sure would have loved it.  
Luke was sitting in a corner, nursing some kind of cocktail which was so full that some of it was pouring down the sides. Han supposed that there must have been ice in there which had completely melted by now. His face lit up when he saw them approach.

"Han! I was afraid you wouldn't come."

"Of course, I came,” he said, somewhat befuddled. "I was invited."

"Ah, right."

His smile faded somewhat as if he had been expecting something else but after exchanging a glance with Leia, his usual cheeriness was back.

"So do you wanna try my world-famous brownies? "

"Show me the way." Han followed him through the crowd without thinking but something about it bothered him.

Something about brownies. Brownies. And a ball. Or was it an orb? No, it was a ball. He laughed out loud at the absurdity of it. Why was he thinking about this when he was at a New Year party with a gorgeous boy beside him? He should rather be working on upping his flirting game. Luke looked back at him with an unreadable expression and Han was suddenly eager to say something.

"How long have you been living in Anchorhead? I haven't seen you around until today."

"We've only moved recently. I mean me and my sister."

"Are you going to university here?"

"You could say that. I'm mostly just trying to start over, I guess. New town, new me."

"Been there, done that. It's more fun if you drink though, it usually takes away the edge of the whole leaving people behind thing."

Han pointed at Luke's cocktail, and he looked at it, almost as if he was surprised that he was still holding it.

"I'm pretty much a lightweight drinker, I'm afraid. I can't have much."

"Still, it's New Year's Eve and you haven't taken a sip yet, kid. You can be too careful, you know. It's possible."

"New Year's Eve?” He looked a bit confused for a moment until he smiled again. "Of course, New Year's Eve."

"Why else would we be here?"

Luke nodded and Han suddenly realised that something was very very wrong. They were still in the crowd, people were laughing and their eyes were glittering strangely in the dark. He stopped in the middle of the room, no longer caring about the brownies. The music sounded distorted somewhat, he could no longer recognize the genre or what instruments were even playing. He still felt slow as if he was some sort of bug, stuck in honey but he remembered the wishing coins changing colour in the light, the afternoon in the shop.  
He grabbed Luke's hand and started dragging him out of the crowd.

"We need to talk. But not here."

He hesitantly bit his lip but nodded.

"Fine."

As they exited the room, Han could feel two eyes burning in the back of his mind and as he glanced back, he saw Leia watching them from a dark corner. There was an empty circle around her as if all guests knew better than to approach. He suddenly had the strange urge to run, to run out of the house and don't stop until he could no longer remember why he was fleeing. Still, he pushed down the feeling, tore away his eyes from Leia and followed Luke out of the room and into a small, austere bedroom. Contrary to the other parts of the house, it had actual signs that someone inhabited it. On the messy bed, books were lying open, all of them in ancient languages Han didn't speak and there were half-burned incense sticks, vials with glowing liquids left on the floor. In his current state, it was hard not to trip over; sometimes Luke had to keep him from falling, as they walked to the two uncomfortable looking wooden chairs beside the window. Relieved, he sat down but his companion kept pacing in the room.

"Do you mind if I smoke?" Han asked, hoping that a cigarette would help to clear his mind.

"No. Not at all,” he muttered. "Can you give me one too?"

"Sure thing, kid."

He took a cigarette between his teeth, then he handed one to Luke who didn't wait for him to fish out the lighter from his pockets but snapped his fingers and instantly, smoke started trailing towards the ceiling, the warm smell of tobacco mixing with the scent of the dusty books and the heavy incense. His companion started coughing instantly, as he inhaled too fast. Han couldn't help but smile.

"First time?"

"Yes,” he admitted after a moment of hesitation.

"Leave the smoke in your mouth to cool down, and only then inhale it deeper."

Luke nodded, following his instructions suddenly the only noise in the room was their steady breathing as they flooded the air with smoke. It was surprisingly intimate, listening to each other inhale and exhale in the dark as if they had known each other longer than they could remember. In the end, Han was the one to break the silence.

"I only came here to stop you, from committing mass suicide via stupidity, you know."

"You can't make much money if you try this hard to convince every customer to bring back what they brought."

There was a shakiness to his smile and his slim fingers held onto the cigarette like that was the only thing keeping him from fleeing.

"I'm usually not that insistent."

"I guess, I'm special then."

"You could say that."

"Is that a good thing?"

"I don't know, kid. I honestly don't know. Who the hell even are you?"

"Luke. Just Luke for now. I'm planning on finding out more about it tonight."

"That's what the séance is for? You know, you could just travel or take up yoga if you wanted to get to know yourself."

"I... want to speak to the spirit of my father. At least, to the man who I think might be my father."

"Complicated?"

"Very much so."

"But how did you even learn the magic necessary for that outside of the Society?"

"I only recently left the Society. We.. had a tumultuous relationship. They betrayed me and my sister, they lied to us and used us as pawns in their pretty little games."

His hands curled into fists and there was a golden flash in his eyes. Han felt the uneasy crawl further up on his spine.

"You know that they will find you eventually, right?"

There was no escape from them, they hunted down every rogue magic user with the determination and efficiency of bloodhounds.

"After tonight, that won't matter any longer."

"Don't do something that you'll regret. I know that you are not telling me everything, I'm not an idiot. All these people... They are not themselves right now, aren't they? You used some sort of magic to keep them here. They are needed for the ritual."

"I had to! There is no other way."

There was a pleading desperation in his voice, almost begging Han to understand.

"Luke, please. You don't have to do this. It's not too late to leave all of this behind."

"I promised Leia, I can't abandon her right now. She is all I have."

He looked so lost and young at that moment that the next sentence was out of Han's mouth before he could even stop to consider it.

"Wrong. You have me."

"But we barely know each other." 

His voice was quiet, barely audible and Han stood up, to place his hand on his trembling shoulder.

"I know, but there was a time when I thought too that it was me against the world until someone said to me that "you look like absolute shit, kid" and offered me a spare bed. I'd like to do the same for you."

"I... I can't accept."

"Just think about it."

Luke opened his mouth to say something but he was interrupted by the opening door. Leia stormed in and Han could have sworn that earlier her eyes were chocolate brown instead of liquid gold.

"It's time,” she said, folding her hands before her chest.

Luke didn't look at him, he stared at the floor fidgeting with the half-burned cigarette in his hand. His slim figure seemed so small, against the dark as if the night could swallow him at any moment.

"Leia, I..." he muttered.

"What's going on?" She asked, worry eminent in her voice for the first time since Han met her.

"Do we really want to do this?" 

"What has he been filling your head with?" She looked at Han with cold anger.

"I just told him about his other choices, Your Iciness,” he said with more self-assurance than he felt at the moment.

"He doesn't have other choices, this is the only way!" 

"You mages and all your fancy ideas about destiny... Let me tell ya, nothing is set in stone. I don't know exactly what are you planning on but you can still stop this. There is still ti-" 

He couldn't finish, as she muttered something under her breath and suddenly, he was frozen. He struggled to move, but it was without use as all of him seemed to be pinned down to this exact point in the universe. He could no longer feel his body at all as if he was only an observer inside his own skin. Luke stared at him for a moment, his mouth slightly open as if he wanted to protest against whatever magic his sister used but in the end, he turned back to her.

"Think of all those people, Leia."

Leia's expression softened and she took Luke's hand.

"I know that this is not easy, but tonight we can finally get back at Palpatine. We can show them what we are capable of. We can finally meet our father. This is what we wanted all along, all we dreamt about."

"I know, I'm just..."

Luke made a vague gesture with his hands as if even he wasn't quite sure about what he wanted to say.

"Can we at least let him go?" he said, looking at Han's frozen form.

"Him? Seriously?"

There was a certain element of ridiculousness to the situation as she seemed more insulted about Han being Han than the idea of letting someone get away. 

"Leia, please!"

She sighed.

"Luke, you know we can't. He is needed to finish the circle. Without him, it won't work. We don't have enough people."

"Fine. We'll do it."

He turned to Han, looking at him mournfully with those eyes that should have been glittering blue, like the summer sky, not liquid gold.

"I'm so sorry."

And at that moment, Han realised where he had seen those eyes before. 

It was in a book that he had nicked from an antique shop when he was only a teenager, who thought that the tales about magic, witches and vampires were only for children and that there was no hidden truth behind the constraints of this world. When he thought the monster he had seen on those pages was only a made to scare kids into eating their vegetables. 

Now, he knew better. 

What he had seen was a demon of war and anger, who led armies into their deaths, who inspired mad fury in the souls of the peaceful and rejoiced in the spilt blood. Vader lacked mercy and humanity. There were tales about him having a human lover, a sorcerer, the only soul in the world who could tame his rage. For the time they were together, it was an age of peace and prosperity. But after she was brutally murdered by her own kind, there was no one to hold back his fury and the world was soaked in blood. He was too young to remember the wars where bombs destroyed whole countries and cities became no more than dust. In the end, Palpatine sealed him up after taking over the Society and suddenly, he became the saviour of the land. No one dared to object to the sorcerer purges after that. There were rumours that Palpatine orchestrated the murder of Vader's lover but they were silenced swiftly. Fearmongers lived short lives, they said. So these stories were hidden in old books and whispers in dark corners.

There were no tales about Vader having children. But now, as he stared at the twins before him, he had no doubts. This wasn't going to be a séance for them to meet their long-dead father. No, this would be a summoning, to free Vader from the chains of Palpatine. 

They were all going to die here tonight. 

His eyes widened, and he struggled against the magic holding him. But it seemed like the harder he tried to escape it, the stronger its grip was on him.

"I'll start the preparations. Bring him to the circle and we'll start. Say goodbye, if you want to."

Leia's voice was surprisingly gentle, as she squeezed Luke's hand before she slipped out of the room. 

He turned to Han, staring at him for a long second.

"I... I really would have liked to accept your offer. But I need to do this. Palpatine has been lying to us since we were children and I'm tired of being left in the dark. I have to meet my father, Han."

He wanted to protest, to say that it was crazy but he could only stare at Luke, unmoving and frozen. 

"I wish it was different. I really do."

Luke softly touched Han's shoulder and suddenly, he could feel his body move. He stood up from the chair and his legs started carrying him towards the door. He lashed out against the magic holding him again, throwing himself at the walls of his mental cage but it had no use.

"It'll be easier if you don't resist. I don't want to cause more pain than necessary." 

Luke's voice from behind him sounded muffled as if he was speaking to him from underwater. They walked back to the living room in silence, even though Han was screaming all along.

Inside, the guests were gathered around the salt circle. They were all smiling, their teeth flashing white in the light of the now lit candles. Their eyes were dead and empty as they stared ahead without blinking. They reminded Han of actors in commercials, talking about how a new toothbrush changed their lives with the facade of perfect happiness and satisfaction plastered all over them. The scene was completely still, nothing and no one moved except the flickering light of the candles. Gone were the music, the clanking glasses and the laughter.

"They won't feel anything at all. They won't even realise what's happening to them, we made that sure," Luke whispered to him as he guided him to the empty spot in the circle.

Han's sweaty fingers grabbed the hands of the two people standing beside him as he entered the circle. None of these people will feel anything or know what's happening to them.

Only him.

"Are you ready, Luke?"

Leia's voice broke the silence but he couldn't turn his head to see her. Han could only stare at the middle of the circle, only catching anything else from the corner of his eyes. He thought about Chewie, waiting for him to come home. How long will it take until he starts looking for him? When will he realise that he didn't come back? He didn't even have a chance to say goodbye. He wasn't much for teary-eyed farewells but he would have liked to thank that annoying furball. For saying "you look like absolute shit, kid" and offering him a spare bed. 

"Ready, when you are."

Luke's voice was determined and suddenly, Han wished that he could at least close his eyes but he could only stare. It was like a scene in the movie when everything started going downhill, rushing towards the inevitable end and the spectators wanted to look away but their gaze was chained to the screen. The unwilling witnesses of tragedy.

The twins started chanting in a language that was foreign to Han. It was deep and old, so old that it made his entire being tremble. Every syllable burned itself into his mind with such intensity, that he would have surely fallen over if the magic wasn't holding him.

Shadows appeared, chasing one another like naughty children and Han could feel them touch his legs, pull his hair. They seemed to be laughing, almost giddy with delight that they were called by their masters to play.

Something was pounding, following the steady and unyielding rhythm of the chanting, like a drum and it took a long time for him to recognize what it was. The house was alive, the walls pulsating around him and he could see the pipes in them, transporting a thick, red fluid.

As the chanting got louder, the shadows gathered inside the circle. They climbed up on each other, viciously fighting for the best spots and eventually uniting into a shapeless, black mass. Their small, red eyes blinked mischievously in the dark, thousands of tiny voices laughing at them as if they knew what was coming.

Suddenly, everything stopped. It was so quiet for a moment, that he could hear his own heart beating in his throat. Maybe something went wrong. Maybe the twins failed. 

Then, everything was on fire. Hungry flames licked the ceiling, spreading around and conquering every corner of the room. It hurt, more than anything he ever felt, the burning plummeted through his veins. 

In the middle of the circle, a figure rose from the shadows and ash. He was vaguely humanoid, his limbs hanging in strange angles as if they were broken. He was clad in black, that absorbed all the light in the room but the small patches of skin visible were deathly pale, splattered with pink scars. His eyes, burning with golden light, surveyed the room around him.

"What fool dares to summon me?" 

His voice rang through the room, making Han's whole body tremble.

"We are Luke and Leia Skywalker."

It was Leia's that answered him, and Han could hear the slight nervousness in her voice.

"Do not play games with me." The demon's anger flared up and the flames rose higher. "If you hadn’t trapped me in your pitiful summoning circle, that lie alone would have cost your life."

"We are not the ones deceiving you. Palpatine lied to you, he lied to us."

"My children are dead."

"And yet, we are here."

It was Luke who answered him, some foreign emotion burning in his voice that Han couldn't recognize. For a moment, the flames took over everything and he could only see blinding, burning orange. Then, as fast as they came they died down leaving only flickering embers on the floor.

"Palpatine must pay for his lies. Let me out and I'll tear him apart from limb to limb," Vader snarled.

"We'll free you but we require a guarantee, that you won't hurt us."

"You are clever, young one. If you were anyone else in this world, I would kill both of you the moment you let me go. What proof, exactly, do you want from me?"

"An oath. On the grave of our mother."

"Very well. I swear on the grave of Padmé Amidala, that I will cause no harm to either of you. Not now, or in the future. Is that sufficient?"

"Yes. Very much so. We will begin the ritual."

The demon smiled, but there was no happiness in his expression. 

"I can feel your pity for these pathetic creatures. Especially yours,” he said, pointing at Luke.

"Of course I pity them. They are innocent."

"True innocence doesn't exist in this world boy. I advise you not to concern yourself with such emotions. Pity is merely a weakness that stands in your way."

"Isn't that what makes us human?"

He sounded lost and so much younger than he actually was.

"Maybe. But you are not human."

"But-"

"There are no buts, young one. You need to be strong if you want to defeat Palpatine."

"You are right.. Father."

His voice was hesitant, almost careful as if he was trying to determine how the new word tasted on his tongue. The demon smiled again, his golden eyes shining in the darkness.

"We'll talk about this more, after you have freed me, son." 

This time, the chanting was quiet, so quiet that it was almost inaudible. Han felt the shadows gathering again, but this time there was nothing playful about them. They were running up on his legs, their feather-soft touch making him fshiver as they caressed his bare skin. He could feel them slowly tightening around his throat, inch by inch until it was hard for him to breath. He started choking, his hands suddenly freed from the clutches of Luke's magic tried to pull the shadows away from his throat, but he only tore into his own skin again and again. He was not the only one who couldn't breathe. People all around the circle started choking, trying to fight against the invisible force gripping them. A vein popped in Han's eye, making the world around him blood red as something more left his body, than air. 

As he fell to the floor, he wished that he never met Luke Skywalker.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to Spellcleaver for the beta-ing! Go check out her stuff because she is absolutely amazing.


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